Prologue

I've had an idea for a new book I want to write, this is nothing to do with the old book I have been working on for the past 3 years but I was nice to let my brain wander and come up with a new idea, Anyway, I've just spent the last 2 hours writing and here's what I've managed. Please let me know what you think.

Prologue

It was September 23^rd in 1981 that my father first took me to see it, the date is, by all means, the easiest thing to remember about that day as it was the Autumnal Equinox, a date that would later be revealed to me as a specific one, but for now that does not matter.

I remember almost vividly the long walk across the long calcareous grasslands as the sun set far over the horizon, this was when I caught my first glimpse of the stones, they stood tall and dark, silhouetted against the orange glow of the fading autumn sun. That image will stay with me forever.

As we walked I noticed the ground was strewn with holes and wooden pegs, remains of food and a torn piece of paper titled “Daily Excess”, I queried my father who then started to described a music festival that had been held on site a few months prior, he spoke of musicians that I had barely heard of at the time and who I had no interest of afterwards either, to me, I just liked the thought that these were to become a history of their own.

My father rarely spoke at all as we approached the outer circles of the Y & Z holes, seeing them in person was rather underwhelming at first, my father had made a habit of recalling tales of his countless visits to The Henge, a term that he assures me he coined himself.

As we entered into the inner horse of stones I myself fell silent, but this is when my father came to life, he could barely keep himself from shaking as he glanced around the enclosure, which by this time was barely visible, being only lit by the dull rising moon.

I could hear him mumbling under his breath as he turned and turned, “57” “58” “70a” “59b” and then he stopped, I could not take my eyes off him as he ran his hands across the rough edges of the stone, “60” he said aloud, as a child I was baffled by his actions but now I know what he was searching for.

He rigorously inspected the stone, top to bottom, front and back, he measured every hole and break in it, he was transfixed! Then he stopped, I watched him closely, burning this moment into my memory. HE seemed to have found a hole, no bigger than a kiwi, approximately 3 foot from the ground on the south side of stone 60.

He took a small grey rock from his pocket, he turned to me and told me not to be scared, no matter what. He pressed the rock hard into the hole and held it there. Nothing happened. By now it was almost pitch black and dead silent, that soon changed.